


He Swears 'No One Else Will Have Him'

by lunacosas



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Crying, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Graphic Description, Language Barrier, Light Bondage, M/M, Master/Slave, Ownership, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Sexual Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:27:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29834619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunacosas/pseuds/lunacosas
Summary: The merchant knows the value of his wares. It irks Geralt, because the moment he sets eyes upon the slave with dusky skin and bright blue eyes, his brown hair dusty from the road, he knows he has to have him.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 16
Kudos: 60





	He Swears 'No One Else Will Have Him'

**Author's Note:**

> Please be sure to read the tags and heed the warning ^^
> 
> With thanks to a stranger for help with the title & encouragement to post/share this <3

The merchant knows the value of his wares. It irks Geralt, because the moment he sets eyes upon the slave with dusky skin and bright blue eyes, his brown hair dusty from the road, he knows he has to have him. The slave’s body is pleasing as his gaze, masculine and strong without being too powerful, and he will be useful as more than just a pleasure slave. Even naked and bound his gaze is still defiant, and there’s an intelligence about him too. He understands that disobedience will result in punishment. His body is healthy enough to suggest that he was not born into a life of slavery or labour, and the merchant confirms Geralt’s suspicion with no small amount of glee.

Geralt hums in thought, eyeing up the other slaves instead of furthering the transaction. None are half as pleasing as the first. He peruses them all the same, finding that they only confirm both the quality and his desire for the blue-eyed man.

For the fact the slave cannot understand a single word being uttered, Geralt manages to get a discount on his purchase. It’s still more than he wanted to pay, and by the time the haggling is done, the dusty market and greedy merchant have darkened his mood. All he wants is to do is to retire to the cool shade of his home and relax.

With his new pleasure slave in tow, he has a very good idea as to the sort of relaxation he intends to enjoy. The bustle of the streets between him and his destination irritates him, making it feel as if he will never get anywhere, but at last he does, and can breathe a sigh of relief. He turns to his intended source of satisfaction, eyeing up the dusty, sweaty man panting close by him, his wrists still bound.

They are barely over the threshold. He ought to have the slave sent to be bathed and prepared for him, but Geralt is in no mood to wait. He has paid good fucking coin for the slave, and he had better be worth it.

The first test is when he leaves him alone for just a moment – the time it takes to fetch a vessel of oil. He passes. He is still standing there, wrists bound, looking wide-eyed around the place. There is an element of fear to his gaze when he looks to Geralt, when he sees what is in his hand. Geralt gives a sneering grin, knowing that the slave has every right to be afraid. He intends to take him, right here in the entryway. If he thought he could trust that pretty mouth he’d have the slave on his knees, lips parted so that Geralt might fuck his face, but there is no guarantee that the slave is completely obedient. Soon, though, Geralt promises himself he’ll have broken him in, that he’ll be as submissive as a virgin on her wedding night.

He makes the slave kneel. Those pretty blue eyes grow wide with dread, and Geralt finds himself impatient. He shoves, hard, making the slave fall down on all fours, and a whimper escapes the slave as his wrists connect with the hard floor. Ignoring him, Geralt focuses instead on what he wants, squeezing and parting the slave’s cheeks to reveal his rosy hole. The merchant never said if his wares were untouched or not. Geralt suspects not, but swears that no one else will touch this man from now on, not unless he expressly allows it. He lets some oil dribble between the slave’s cheeks, fingers pressing bluntly in. The slave whimpers again, tightening and trying to pull away from the intrusion.

In response, Geralt pulls his hand back far enough to make the impact sting. The slave won’t understand words, so he uses actions instead, pulling him close again, annoyed by the pathetic little noise he makes. This time, he pulls his clothing aside to bare his already hard cock, coating it in oil. He holds it steady, his other hand at the slave’s hip to hold him steady, to bite into his skin should he think of trying to pull away.

He tries, but by then it’s already too late. Geralt’s cock has already pressed hard against his hole, the tight ring of muscles forced to give and a cry echoing around them. With both hands now, he holds the slave in place, thrusting forward in one tight, pleasing stroke. The slave flutters and moans in pain beneath him, wet-sounding sobs falling from his lips, and Geralt’s lip curls up in a satisfied grin. This slave was worth the coin. His body is hot and tight. It’s pleasing. Geralt loses himself in the pleasure of taking what is his, laying claim to his purchase. He fucks without restraint, satisfied that his trip to the market was worth it. His new slave cries so prettily, sobbing and begging in whatever language is native to his tongue, and Geralt remains blissfully removed from the pleas, letting the imagined words of desperation fuel him. He likes those unintelligible words, he likes those cries and whimpers, and he loves the way the slave eventually becomes mute, only able to gasp and sob. Geralt fucks into him as he pleases, pistoning his hips hard into the unwilling body beneath him. His own release hits him hard, spilling from him in a heady rush, and he moans his gratification until he is done. Spent, he pulls out, pleased to see the mess that has been made of his slave. The dust on his skin is riven with sweat, the mess between his thighs glistening as Geralt basks in his satisfaction. Overpriced, yes, but his new slave is worth it. The way he sobs, his chest heaving and body trembling, only serves to further endear him to Geralt. He is such a beautiful, perfect thing, and Geralt cannot wait to see how magnificent he will become.

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't have much time to work the idea out in full or add more but... I could...


End file.
